


Tell This Story of Blood

by for_t2



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anger, Bargaining, Blood and Violence, Brotherhood of Sorcerers, Desperation, F/F, Flirting, Massacres, Monsters, Not Canon Compliant, Renfri | Shrike Deserves Better (The Witcher), Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 23:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: The Brotherhood of Sorcerers was running out of options to try and stop Renfri's bloodthirsty rampage against them. So this time, they tried diplomacy
Relationships: Triss Merigold/Renfri
Kudos: 4





	Tell This Story of Blood

The castle reeked of blood. Of guts and entrails and of the piss of the dead who had wet their pants in their seconds. There had been another massacre and Triss didn’t need to see the red staining the walls to know that she had arrived too late again. It was a small measure of mercy that the screams had died down to moans and the odd splutter of a throat still slowly drowning in blood.

But this time, at least the remains of the slaughter were fresh enough that Triss might have arrived early enough to stop the next one.

She hoped.

“I can see why the sorcerers wanted to hide in here.” The voice from the castle’s throne carried across the hall, echoing off the great stone walls and losing itself in the stench. “This lord had great taste in beer.”

Triss’s footsteps joined the echo as she stepped across the floor, avoiding the bodies strewn across it on her way to the throne. She stopped a few steps away from the platform. Managed a polite smile. “Lord Laska has a reputation for it. And for his generosity in welcoming those who need refuge.”

“Had.” The woman slouched across the lord’s empty throne took another sip of the tankard she was holding. “He had a reputation for it. Unfortunately, he failed to consider who was coming for those cowards.” She drained the tankard. Tossed it, bouncing across the floor until it rolled into Triss’s boots. “So who are you?”

“It’s an honour to meet you Renfri, Princess of Creyden.” Triss bowed slightly, not too much as to appear mockingly formal or mockingly informal. “My name is Triss Merigold. I’m here on behalf of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers.”

“The Brotherhood?” Renfri’s eyebrows rose. “So you’re the witch that’s been chasing me.”

It had only been a couple of weeks since Triss had been assigned the mission to follow the killer. As one of the youngest sorcerers in the Brotherhood, she accepted the mission without second thought. She just hoped that they hadn’t picked someone they thought was expendable. Especially since she hadn’t noticed anyone following her. “I am.”

Renfri snorted. Let her eyes wander over Triss. “You’re prettier than I expected.”

“Thank you.” Triss performed another bow to hide the small blush that crept into her cheeks. There were a lot of tales – of rumours – of the princess that were being whispered around the Brotherhood, but none had mentioned quite how… intensely wild her eyes were. “And you likewise.”

Renfri barked out a laugh. “The only ones who say that are the drunken idiots in the taverns.”

Triss wouldn’t know. She was a lot better at making potions than drinking them. “I hope that I am neither.”

“You don’t seem drunk and this isn’t a tavern.” Renfri chuckled. “But I wouldn’t rule out an idiot. It’s been a long time since any sorcerer’s tried walking up to me unarmed.” 

“The Brotherhood has, well, taken notice of your hunt.” Taken notice as in news of a new massacre arrived every other day. Of a bandit who magic couldn’t touch. Of another disembowelled sorcerer after another. “We would like to express our concerns.”

Renfri barked out another laugh. “You mean you’re running piss scared of me.” Triss couldn’t quite decide whether that laugh was ugly or terrifying. “Did they send you as a sacrifice to satiate my terrible, monstruous appetite?” Either way, it was intense. “Did they send you to seduce me until I stopped?”

“The Brotherhood would like to extend—”

“Hold on.” Renfri held up a hand to interrupt Triss. “I want to hear more about how much I scare you. How many of you are trying to find somewhere to hide? Has anyone started betting who I’m going to kill next?” She grinned, baring her teeth. “What about the young trainees? What are they telling the kids?”

Triss has a mission and she wasn’t going to let herself get distracted. She didn’t want to be the next disembowelled sorcerer. “The Brotherhood would like to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?” Renfri’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief before hardening just as quickly. “You think you have the right to offer me a deal?”

Really, the Brotherhood didn’t have much of a choice. The pile of dead sorcerers could only grow so much before they had to act. And, unfortunately, the first attempts to lay a binding trap and the first attempts to plot an assassination had failed. “We are aware that Stregobor—”

“No!” Renfri slammed her fist against the throne. For a second, Triss thought she was going to reach for her sword. “You don’t get to tell me what he took from me.”

“I’m sorry.” Triss had done her homework and she genuinely was sorry. No sorcerer worthy of magic would do what Stregobor had done. “Really.”

“So tell me, Triss Merigold, why do you think I’m not going to kill you right now?”

If she was being honest, Triss would have to admit that she wasn’t entirely sure Renfri wouldn’t. But she hadn’t so far. “The Brotherhood recognises that Stregobor went to far.” Far too far. “His actions were unacceptable and he deserved punishment. I would like to start by formally apologising on behalf of the Brotherhood.” Triss spoke again before Renfri could snort. “And we would like to recognise that your quest isn’t without reason.”

“You would, would you?”

“We think we can help with your quest.” Triss tried to keep her eyes steady under Renfri’s gaze. Tried to keep her expression straight. “Magic has rules and the Brotherhood has rules on top of those rules. Not all sorcerers follow those rules. Not all those who learn magic follow the Brotherhood. We would be willing to pay you handsomely to deal with those cases.”

Renfri stared at her for a long, long moment. “That’s it?” Before sneering. “I get everything taken from me and your idea of an apology is using me as the Brotherhood’s tool? You’re pathetic.”

Triss flinched as Renfri spat at her. “You’ve been killing too many of us. Is there anything we could offer you?”

“Do you know any sorcerers who could go back in time and give me back what he took from me?”

If Triss could, she would. If she knew anyone who could, she’d beg them. “I sincerely wish I did.”

Renfri sighed. “Then do you know any who could bring Stregobor back to life so that I could kill him again? And again?”

“Necromancy is forbidden.” Deeply, deeply forbidden. Almost all dark magic was, and necromancy was among the darkest of the dark arts. “If—”

“Of course it is. The dead are a world of their own. There aren’t many people who can handle that. Especially not sorcerers.” She straightened herself up on the throne. Fixed her intense gaze on Triss again. “How should I kill you?”

“I…” Triss shut her eyes. Tried to hide her shiver under her cloak. “I should let you know that the Brotherhood will be seeking the services of a Witcher.” She shouldn’t. It was supposed to be a secret (one that she wasn’t officially supposed to know). “If you decide to decline our offer.”

“A witcher, eh?” Renfri laughed and she almost sounded happy. “This should be fun.”

Triss couldn’t help but sigh. But smile sadly. Her mission here was done and she had to tell the Brotherhood. Or, at least, she had to get out before the Brotherhood correctly interpreted her dead body as notice of refusal. For some reason, instead, she hesitated. “You know… Renfri.”

“What do I know?”

“I really am sorry.” If Triss had gone through what Renfri had, she suspected she might’ve turned out like Renfri had too. It wasn’t something she really wanted to think about (and it was something she suspected would give her nightmares if she survived this castle). “If things were different, I would’ve liked to get to know you.”

For a moment, Renfri stayed silent.

Then she moved.

Quickly. 

Triss didn’t have time to react, to try and cast a protective ward, before Renfri’s feet were off her throne, before her hands were on her sword, and before she was marching across the floor.

Before she grabbed Triss by the throat. Dragged her to the wall and slammed her against the stone.

Before she pressed the tip of her sword into Triss’s throat, enough to draw pain, to bring a trickle of warm blood down Triss’s neck.

"You tell me you want to know me, yet you come as one of them." Renfri snarled. “Look at me, sorcerer. Look at me!” She slammed Triss against the wall again until Triss managed to look down at her with something that approached strength (or, at least, that Triss hoped approached resolve). “I am a monster.” Renfri grinned and it was so far beyond wild. “And I am a very, very good monster.”

Renfri’s hands tightened around Triss’s throat, cutting off her breath for a second, before she tossed Triss to the ground.

“Make sure your witcher doesn’t forget to bring silver. Tell him I’m looking forward to fighting him.” Renfri turned back to smile at Triss one last time. “I hope you’ll be there to watch.” 


End file.
